


Instant

by robotboy



Series: Butterscotch [7]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Disabled Character, Curtain Fic, Deaf Character, Drunk Sex, F/F, Fluff, Gen, Just Add Kittens, M/M, Only One Bed, Recreational Drug Use, Snippets, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-11 11:28:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 7,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17446085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotboy/pseuds/robotboy
Summary: Ficlets in the Butterscotch universe, from tumblr prompts with obscure and wacky holidays.





	1. Monkey Day

Silver steps back from the glass in surprise. Flint glances between his boyfriend and the round furry face staring back at them. Flint checks the plaque.

_Is_ ** _this_** _the noise you’ve been hearing all day?_ Flint asks.

The howler monkey opens its mouth and… lives up to its name. Silver is looking at Flint now, and Flint nods to confirm he heard it.

_Their feet look like hands,_ Flint observes, and Silver wiggles his fingers in agreement. They watch as their screaming friend munches on a melon.

_I never liked them much,_ Silver notes.

_Melons?_

_Monkeys._

_Any reason?_ Flint asks.

_It was a nickname,_ Silver confesses, his cheeks tinged slightly red.

_Howler monkey?_

_Just ‘monkey,’_ Silver doesn’t look particularly fond of the memory. He pulls his hair up and puts a finger behind his ear, making it stick out.

_They’re not_ ** _that_** _bad,_ Flint says.

_I grew into them,_ Silver raises his eyebrows grimly.

Flint cringes in sympathy.  _Still,_ he says.  _That’s not very kind._

_And I used to climb things all the time,_ Silver adds. He points to a baby monkey dangling precariously from a branch.  _Like this little guy._

The branch dips like it’s going to break, but the monkey leaps onto another tree, scrabbling to regain its balance. They watch it clamber hand-over-hand and right itself. It scurries into the arms of a bigger monkey, becoming a tangle of long limbs and golden fur.

_Being an only child,_ Silver explains.  _I always wanted to be as tall as the adults._

The baby extricates itself from the cuddle to beg for melons off the screaming monkey.

_But I’m still a foot shorter than most of them,_ Silver grins. Flint rolls his eyes and grabs Silver, wrapping both arms around him so he can’t make any more terrible jokes. Silver rocks in his embrace, shaking with laughter. Flint kisses his ears before letting go.

_I like your ears,_ Flint tells him.  _They’re very useful. Functional._

Silver nods sincerely.  _I like yours too. Tasteful. Minimalist._

_Decorative,_ Flint chuckles.

The screaming monkey gives the baby a melon slice, and it stuffs the whole thing in its mouth. They watch its cartoonish chewing for a while.

_Come on,_  Silver says.  _I want to see the sloth._

_What’s the hurry?_  Flint grins at him.  _It’s not like they’re going anywhere._


	2. Appreciate A Dragon Day

‘Hey, bookworm!’ Madi shouts. ‘Two cappuccinos, take away.’

Silver jumps, snapping the novel shut and shoving it in a shelf under the coffee machine. It’s a handy spot even if coffee grounds occasionally fall on it. His books end up smelling fantastic.

‘Good read?’ Madi asks, grinning at him.

‘Yeah,’ Silver answers vaguely. ‘I just got up to an exciting bit.’

‘What are the wizards up to?’

Silver pokes his tongue out at her, tying his hair up tighter. Madi’s still looking at him, so he answers: ‘There’s no wizards.’

She raises her eyebrows. He waits until the grinder is finished to check if she’s still expecting an answer.

‘They’re called  _mages,’_ he mumbles, tamping down the puck a little harder than he needs to.

She smirks, putting a croissant in a paper bag. ‘What were the  _mages_ up to?’

‘You’re condescending me,’ Silver pouts, setting the cups under the group head and starting the pull.

‘I’m teasing you for reading through the end of your break,’ she says, getting the milk out and passing it to him. ‘It’s cute. Tell me what was so exciting.’

‘They were fighting,’ Silver says, letting the steamer shriek and almost drown his voice out.

‘What were they fighting about?’

‘… they were fighting a dragon,’ Silver answers.

He concentrates on filling the cups with foam and cocoa, so he doesn’t have to look Madi in the eye. He hands them to the customer with a winning smile, which goes a little glassy when he turns back to Madi.

‘Come on,’ she says warmly. ‘I’m interested that you’re interested.  _You_  listen when  _I_ talk about what  _I’m_ reading.’

‘That’s because you read stuff that  _matters,’_ Silver points out.

‘I read all sorts of stuff,’ Madi tells him. ‘Anyway, wizards matter. They matter to you, don’t they?’

‘They… yeah?’ Silver shrugs.

‘Fantasy asks us to imagine how the world could be different, right?’ Madi says. ‘How can we change the world if we can’t do that?’

‘Change it to… having more dragons?’ Silver asks.

‘It’s a start,’ she shrugs. She reaches down to prod the book around on the shelf and read the spine. ‘So, would you recommend it?’

‘Maybe not that one,’ Silver says. ’It might be hard to follow, without context.’

‘What’s the context? The twelve other books in the series?’

‘They’re sort of… based off these games…’ he scratches the back of his neck.

‘Am I meant to be surprised that  _John Silver_ plays  _video games?’_ Madi asks.

‘Uh,’ Silver fiddles with the portafilter. ‘They’re not…  _video_  games.’

‘Wait,’ Madi’s face breaks into an enormous grin. ‘Are you talking about Dungeons and Dragons?  _Silver, do you play Dungeons and Dragons?’_

‘I… have,’ Silver looks down. ‘In the past.’

‘EME!’ Madi suddenly calls out. ‘DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR DICE?’

‘You’re kidding me,’ Silver is definitely turning red now.

Eme weaves her way across the crowded floor. ’I have  _so many dice._ What do you need?’

She reaches into her pocket and puts a D20 on the counter. ‘Oh my god,’ Silver says. ‘You carry them around with you? What are you expecting?’

‘You never know,’ Eme shrugs solemnly.

‘You and Kofi are always saying you want to start a game, right?’ Madi asks.

‘It’s called a campaign!’ Kofi’s head pops around the kitchen door.

‘Silver plays,’ Madi tells him.

‘I  _have played,’_ Silver demurs. ‘I… could play again?’

‘I think we still need another player,’ Eme says.

All eyes fall on Madi.

‘Come on, Madi,’ Silver smiles. ‘Haven’t you ever wanted to be a wizard?’


	3. Cat Day

‘What’s that noise?’

Flint gives Billy a long, hard stare. The penny drops.

‘Oh, my god! I’m sorry!’ Billy says. ‘I didn’t mean… it’s just, there’s this squeaking…’

‘Can’t help you,’ Flint tells him.

Billy pokes his head out into the hallway. ‘Oh, my god,’ he repeats. ‘Hal, what are those?!’

Hal replies, but it’s indecipherable through the wall. Flint kicks his chair back to see what’s going on. Then Billy drops to his knees as Hal comes into view, holding a box in his arms. Billy has his head in the box and is making strange noises.

Flint gives Hal a quizzical frown. Hal’s mouth draws thin the way it does when something unexpected has happened.

‘I’m gonna put them in my office,’ he tells Billy. To Flint, he says: ‘Want to come see?’

Hal leaves and Billy gets up to follow. Flint comes after them, watching as Hal puts the box in Billy’s arms while he gets out his keys. Billy is fixated on whatever’s inside, but he’s too tall for Flint to peek in and Flint’s not going to ask.

Hal opens the door and Billy put the box gently down on Hal’s desk. They’re both crowding around it, and as Flint sidles in he hears the squeaking.

Half a dozen kittens are looking up at them with wide blue eyes. They’re very skinny, and their fur looks wet. Some of them are shivering.

 _Where do they come from?_ Flint asks.

 _Under a ramp outside,_ Hal replies. He repeats himself aloud for Billy’s sake.

‘What happened to their mother?’ Billy is letting one bite his finger.

‘Dunno,’ Hal says. ‘I’m not hopeful about her chances on the main road. I’ve seen them wandering around under the building for a few days. I think it’s been a while since she was around, and there’s a storm forecast.’

Hal picks a kitten up. He rubs it gently with his scarf to dry it. Billy does the same with another, using his sleeve. Flint takes off his jumper, taking a third and carefully dabbing its fur. The kitten weighs almost nothing, just fragile bones and a rapid little heartbeat. He rubs her dry with his index finger tucked into the jumper, until she’s fluffy again. He finishes with her nose, and she pushes back against his touch with all her strength. Once her fur is dry, it’s easier to make out her markings. She has white boots and a splotchy face, like she’s fallen face-first into ink.

 _Do they need a vet?_ Flint asks. He picks up a second kitten and dries it.

 _I’ll take them during lunch,_ Hal answers. The ink-faced kitten wanders to the edge of the desk, and Flint has to scoop her up and put her back in the middle of his jumper.

‘Do either of you know anyone who can foster them?’ Hal asks.

’We could keep them here,’ Billy suggests.

‘We can’t have a library cat,’ Flint points out. ‘DeGroot would have a conniption.’

‘They could catch vermin,’ Billy suggests.

 _‘What_ vermin?’ Hal asks.

‘What if I went to the pet store…’ Billy says slowly. ‘And bought some mice?’

‘DeGroot would drown _you_ in a sack,’ Hal says.

 _Do they make sacks big enough?_ Flint snarks.

‘I understood that,’ Billy says.

‘If you put mice in the library _I’ll_ put you in a sack and drown you,’ Flint glares at Billy.

‘I’m just saying, it would look great on our instagram,’ Billy points out. He cuddles two kittens to his chest.

Hal rocks back on his heels, face crinkling like he’s impressed by the idea.

 _There’s only six of them,_ Hal says, still signing and speaking. _We post a notice saying ‘free kittens’ and they’ll be gone in an hour._

 _Are they old enough to be adopted?_ Flint asks. His second kitten has gone to sleep, and ink-face is nibbling on his thumb.

 _I’ll ask the vet,_ Hal answers.

‘Not if their eyes are still blue,’ Billy supplies, figuring out the context from Hal.

Flint snaps a quick photo of the kittens. He sends it to Silver.

 _WHERE,_ he gets in reply.

 _New acquisition for the library,_ Flint tells him.

_!! will they still be there tonight?_

_Maybe,_ Flint answers honestly. _I’ll let you know._

Now that they’re warm and dry, the kittens are getting drowsy. They’re gently returned to the box, and they nestle together in a patchwork of black and white fluff. Ink-face blinks sleepily up at him, and Flint tickles her chin until she settles.

*

Flint is elbow-deep in metadata when Hal comes back from lunch. He pokes his head into Flint’s office and jerks his head in invitation. Flint gets up and Billy materialises in the hallway, summoned by kittens. Flint sighs, grabs his hearing aids, and follows Hal into his office.

‘They’re three weeks old,’ Hal says as he settles the box down. ‘Definitely abandoned. Vet said we’re lucky they didn’t freeze to death.’

Ink-face is already trying to climb out. Flint reaches out and steers her back into the box.

‘Should we feed them?’ Billy asks.

‘In another four hours,’ Hal hisses through his teeth. ‘But then it’s _every_ four hours.’

 _Are you going to take them home?_ Flint asks him.

 _The dogs,_ Hal shrugs. The kittens will probably look like lunch to his rottweilers.

‘I could do it,’ Billy volunteers.

’You can’t keep a box of kittens in a dorm,’ Hal reminds him, not unkindly.

Flint takes a deep breath. Big blue eyes are staring into his soul.

 _I’ll see what I can do,_ he tells Hal _._

Hal claps him on the shoulder, and Billy looks between them, figuring out what’s been said. ‘You can take them?’

‘Silver’s coming later,’ Flint says. ‘He’ll… well, he’ll at least know someone.’

*

When he arrives, Silver doesn’t even enter Flint’s office. He sticks his head through the door, checks: _They’re next door?_ and keeps going the moment Flint nods.

Flint finds him at Hal’s desk cooing and covering himself in kittens.

‘They’re so _small,’_ Silver is saying, holding one of them up to his face. ‘ _You’re so small!’_

He sees Flint and tries to sign, but he’s got handfuls of kittens.

‘You look happy,’ Flint says aloud.

A few are hanging off Silver’s shirt by their claws, and Flint helps extricate a couple. They wander clumsily along Hal’s desk.

‘Do you know anyone who could foster them?’ Hal asks Silver. ‘They’ll need feeding every four hours for three weeks, then every six hours for another two weeks.’

Silver looks over at Flint. His eyes are even bigger and bluer than the kittens’. Ink-face is crawling into his hair.

Flint is weak.

‘Take some time to think about it,’ Flint tells him.

Silver swings back and forth for a few seconds, eyes searching the room. He’s clutching Ink-face like he’s never going to let her go.

 _‘Yes,’_ he grins.

‘I said take time!’ Flint reminds him.

‘I can walk home on my breaks,’ Silver promises. ‘And set phone alarms at night so I don’t wake you…’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Flint says, and Silver’s face drops. ‘It’ll be twice as fast to feed them if we do it together.’

_*_

Like Hal predicted, they’ve barely said ‘free kittens’ before five of the litter are promised to good homes.

Ink’s already made herself at home.


	4. National Frozen Food Month

_What actually_ **_are_ ** _they?_

Silver stares through the glass.

 _I think it’s like a pasty,_ Flint guesses.

 _A calzone?_ Silver suggests.

 _Surely your roommates ate them,_ Flint scowls at the rows of red boxes.

 _That is a terrible stereotype about stoners,_ Silver admonishes him. _Also completely true._

_You never had any?_

_Of the devil’s lettuce? Of course I did._

_Any_ **_hot pockets,_ ** _you idiot._

 _Every time they ate one, they’d start screaming about burning their mouths,_ Silver recalls. _It never really appealed._

 _Well, unless_ ** _we’re_** _having the devil’s lettuce..._ Flint says. _I don’t think we need fifty chicken nuggets._


	5. Panic Day

_I’ll sleep on the couch, if that’s ok?_

Miranda looks at him sideways. _Of course it’s ok._

Flint busies himself with the cushions. Sweat tickles his neck, and it’s not just the June heat.

 _It’s the barista, isn’t it?_ Miranda asks. _You’re serious about him._

Flint sits heavily on the couch. _I guess I am._

Miranda curls beside him, eyes twinkling. _What is it about him?_

 _He’s… inquisitive,_ Flint says. _Adventurous_.

 _The things you need,_ she nods.

_He makes me smile._

_I can see that,_ Miranda grins.

 _It’s just… hard,_ Flint bites his lip. _It’s been so long._

 _I’m sure it’ll come back to you,_ Miranda squeezes his shoulder. _If you practice._


	6. International Find A Pay Phone Booth Day

_I’m here,_ Flint texts. _Where are you?_

 _i’m here!_ Silver replies. _and you’re not_

_Joey’s Ice Cream Parlour?_

_JOES,_ Silver corrects him. _further up the road. it’s got a phone booth outside_

_You think I know where the phone booth is?_

_it’s an unusual landmark!_ Silver types. _keep going up the road_

_East or west?_

_you think i know cardinal directions?_ Silver screenshots his map app and sends it to Flint.

Finally, Flint arrives.

 _Welcome to Joe’s,_ Silver signs, pulling Flint in for a quick kiss. _Where I like to stand outside and make my phone calls._

 _Maybe you’re a superhero,_ Flint suggests, his eyes wandering over to the dozens of ice cream flavours. _And this is where you change._

 _Sure,_ Silver grins. He already knows Flint’s going to pick the butterscotch. _If my superpower is getting you ice cream._


	7. Extraterrestrial Abductions Day

Flint is standing in Silver’s room, and Silver wants to die.

Silver hadn’t even thought of it when he’d said: _We can stop off at my place for another set of clothes._

He hadn’t thought Muldoon would be semi-conscious on the couch with a random guy while _Sleepwalkers Who Kill_ plays at a painful volume. He hadn’t thought Randall’s door would be locked while he chatted loudly to Betsy. He hadn’t thought about the fact that Flint’s been dating him for a month, and well, it was a good month. He tries to make his peace with that as he opens his bedroom door.

There’s a complete set of _The Martian Chronicles_ with battered spines lying sideways on the shelf, a Monster Magnet t-shirt on the floor, and in the corner, to tie Silver’s whole aesthetic together, there’s an old prosthetic leg with a beer bottle sticking out of the socket. Flint might be Deaf, but the room is screaming DEALBREAKER loud enough to rupture eardrums.

Flint is mostly staring at the massive poster on the wall that reads I WANT TO BELIEVE.

 _How old are you?_ Flint asks, squinting at the UFO.

Silver has spent a lot of his life hoping aliens would abduct him. He has never wanted it more than this exact moment. A tractor beam could just suck him right out of the room and he’d never have to see this planet or all the mistakes he’s made on it ever again.

This room looks like a twenty-year-old college dropout died in it. The truth that a thirty-year-old never-went-to-college-to-drop-out _lives_ in it is even worse.

 _Thirty,_ Silver says.

Flint cocks his head to one side, looking at Silver.

 _So you’d have been five when The X-Files started?_ Flint checks.

 _Yes…?_ Silver says, and grabs a backpack already full of clean clothes out of his wardrobe, slamming the door before everything else comes tumbling out behind it.

_Did you watch it then?_

_Oh, no,_ Silver explains. _When I was older. From the video shop._

Flint smiles to himself and steals a kiss. Silver hurries them out of his room, and considers throwing a molotov cocktail in behind them just to be safe.

Half an hour later he’s feeling better, at Flint’s house with pizzas ordered and beers opened. Flint clinks their bottles together and leads him into the lounge.

 _Movie?_ he offers.

 _What do you feel like?_ Silver asks.

 _You know, after that artsy French movie at the cinema,_ Flint says. _I’m thinking something that goes with pizza and beer._

Silver thinks for a moment that Flint’s pitying him. But Flint leads him to a cupboard beside the TV and pops it open. Silver has to double-take at the sheer quantity of truly mediocre blockbusters Flint owns. And at the bottom, spelled across the spines of fifty DVDs, is _The X-Files._

 _In case you’re feeling nostalgic for the video shop,_ Flint grins.


	8. I am in Control Day

Silver stares at the crime scene. There, in the sink, lies the mangled remains of his toothbrush.

The prime suspect is clear. She has left chew-marks all over the handle and ripped out all the bristles.

 _Do we not love you, Inks?_ Silver asks. _Are you not spoilt rotten, that you are driven to destroy things?_

She sits on the bathmat washing her ears, the picture of innocence. Silver checks the cupboard, confirming there’s no spare toothbrushes.

Then he remembers his bag in the wardrobe. He heads to the next room and rummages around, his knee complaining the whole time.

The backpack falls on his head, making him grumble. He unzips the front pocket and grabs the toothbrush. Then he hesitates.

He takes the deodorant and the toothpaste out too.

The two t-shirts, the hoodie, the jeans. The socks and underwear. His passport.

It expires the year after next. That’s ok. That’s fine.

He puts the clothes in the wardrobe, and the passport in a drawer.

He goes back to the bathroom, ignoring the tugging feeling in his chest. He puts his toothbrush in the jar, next to Flint’s.

 _New house rule,_ Silver tells Ink. _No more sabotage._


	9. Talk Like A Pirate Day

_‘What shall we do with the drunken sailor?_

_What shall we do with the drunken sailor?_

_What shall we do with the drunken sailor?_

_Early in the morning?’_

The shower acoustics are fantastic. Silver belts out the tune at the top of his lungs, every bit as drunk as any sailor who ever sailed. He swings his hair out of the way and realises Flint is on the other side of the glass, brushing his teeth and frowning in puzzlement.

Silver wipes the steam away and signs: _I’m singing!_

_Loudly,_ Flint nods.

_Want to join me?_ Silver asks.

_Don’t fall,_ Flint cautions. _I put that rail in for a reason._

Silver returns his hands to the rail, launching into another verse and dipping backwards like a rock star.

‘ _Weigh-hay and up she rises_

_Weigh-hay and up she rises_

_Weigh-haaaaaaa—_ HELLO!’ Silver yelps as Flint’s hands appear on his hips, steadying him. He twists to see Flint has undressed and snuck in.

Silver takes one hand off the rail and Flint grabs it, putting it back.

_‘Don’t_ sign,’ Flint speaks. ‘You’re likely enough to go arse over tit as it is.’

Silver turns so they’re facing, with one hand on the rail and the other on Flint’s shoulder.

He leans close where Flint can read his lips and asks: ‘Are you here to collect me?’

Flint is flushed scarlet from alcohol and steam. He purrs in Silver’s ear: ‘I’m here for the show.’

Silver throws his head back with laughter, and Flint pulls him close. Silver’s stomach swoops, and he has to scrunch his eyes shut as the water hits his face. Flint’s arms snake around him, his body pressed against Silver’s. He noses the sensitive skin under Silver’s ear and Silver takes a deep breath.

_‘Put him in the scuppers with the hosepipe on him_

_Put him in the scuppers with the hosepipe on him_

_Put him in the scuppers with the hosepipe on him_

_Early in the morning!’_

The lyrics are terrible. Silver realises his repertoire of power ballads may have been better for serenading Flint. But he’s committed now. He’s halfway through his second set of _weigh-aways_ when Flint grabs his ass and squeezes. Silver grinds instinctively. He’s that kind of syrupy warm and buzzed where it all feels amazing. The sweet spice of rum lingering on Flint’s breath, the pounding stream of the water, and the swell of Flint’s cock against his thigh. Silver opens his mouth for another verse and Flint kisses it. The song becomes a groan and the kiss becomes sloppy, Flint’s tongue prying his mouth open.

Flint slides a slippery hand between their bodies and strokes Silver’s cock. Silver bucks into the touch, humming as his cock fills. He’s following the tune between breaths, his lips forming the shape of ‘put him in the brig until he’s sober’—which sounds like a bad idea, actually. But the arousal is molten-hot in him, and all he needs to think about is keeping his balance and fucking Flint’s hand. The kiss turns into something more like Silver’s mouth trawling over Flint’s jaw, and then his teeth are sinking into Flint’s earlobe. Flint hisses and Silver wants to touch him. He starts to reach down and Flint murmurs: ‘Hand on the rail. I’ve got this.’

Silver considers arguing, but he realises it’s entirely likely that he’s going to collapse when he comes. Anyway, Flint’s got this. Flint adjusts his grip and wraps his hand around both of them. It’s tricky, and more than a little awkward standing up, but Silver groans and thrusts against Flint’s cock, revelling in the rock-hard heat of it. Flint’s hand moves a little differently, a rough, rushed motion he can never resist when he’s getting himself off. Silver rides along, wishing he could touch more of Flint. He mouths Flint’s throat and nips the freckles on his shoulders, still humming the song.

Flint brings himself over the edge with a growl, and immediately refocuses his attention on Silver. Everything is hot and slick and easy. Silver ruts shamelessly against Flint’s hip, gasping through the water, letting pleasure fill him as he comes. He’s a deadweight in Flint’s arms, shifting only enough to let Flint soap them both down and rinse. He makes some attempt to help, most of his attention focused on a very thorough washing of Flint’s thighs.

‘Ready?’ Flint asks, reaching for the tap. Silver lets out a long pitiful groan, but he answers: _Yes._

Everything is much too cold and much too dry. Flint disappears, only to return with a fluffy towel that he drapes around Silver. He steers Silver into the chair beside the shower, which has never felt like a better place to sleep. Then something smothers his head, and Silver realises Flint is rubbing his curls vigorously with another towel. It’s overwhelming in a fantastic sort of way. Silver hums and enjoys the vibrato caused by Flint’s movement. Flint guides Silver’s head up and Silver blinks sleepily at him. Flint’s eyes are crinkled at the edges, heavy-lidded, and he has that kind of lazy and lop-sided smile he gets when he’s properly satisfied.

_What_ ** _is_** _a scupper?_ Silver asks.

Flint frowns, craning his neck as he dries himself. _It’s… like a drain?_

_You know_ ** _everything,_** Silver nods, fumbling with the towel until he’s approximately dry.

Flint laughs. _I really don’t._

_Everything I know about history, I learned from Assassin’s Creed,_ Silver says. _And from you. Also you._

_Happy to help,_ Flint offers Silver his crutch, they make a not-quite-straight path to the bedroom.

_‘Weigh away, and up she rises…’_ Silver croons as he flops on the mattress.

’Maybe not so early in the morning,’ Flint suggests.


	10. Take Your Child To Work Day

Flint is running late. He slings his bag over his shoulder, his scarf around his neck, and gets one arm into his coat before he’s out the door. He’s in Queens long enough to wave at Madi, snatch the triple-shot latte from Silver’s hand, and flash an I-L-Y before dashing to the bus stop.

He’s still finishing his coffee when he gets to work, raising the cup in greeting when he sees Hal in the hallway. Hal frowns at him.

 _Your bag is screaming,_ Hal tells him.

Flint lifts the flap of his bag. A splotchy face stares up at him.

 _Look how big you are!_  Hal scoops her out and Ink attaches herself to his chest. Flint takes the opportunity to get his office unlocked, setting down his bag and his cup. Ink climbs onto Hal’s shoulder.

 _Why did you bring her in?_ he asks.

 _She’s a stowaway,_ Flint reaches up to check on her, and she rubs her chin against his fingers.  _I should take her home._

 _She’s here now,_ Hal grins.  _No harm in her staying for the day._

Flint sighs, getting his coat off and his hearing aids in.  _You’ll regret this if she needs her litterbox._

 _Billy will clean it up,_ Hal smiles confidently. He’s cooing a little song to her, and she’s ardently licking his moustache. Flint goes to collect a bowl from the kitchen, and comes back to find Ink climbing along his bookshelf. He places the bowl on the desk and fills it from his water bottle. She starts pulling a book about floating islands until it’s dangerously close to the edge of the shelf, so he scoops her up and puts her in front of the bowl. Hal is still watching her.

 _Do you want to work in here today?_ Flint raises an eyebrow. Hal looks tempted.

‘Hal, are you in here…?’ Billy ducks through the doorway. ‘They need your signature on the special collections transfer.’

‘Can it wait five minutes?’ Hal scratches between Ink’s shoulders and she arches.

‘Oh!’ Billy crouches down to greet Ink. ’Is this the one you kept?’

‘Good morning, Billy,’ Flint says. ‘Yes, it’s Ink.’

‘What’s she doing here?’ Billy asks.

‘She snuck into my bag,’ Flint explains.

‘DeGroot’s gonna drown you in a sack,’ Billy says.

‘What DeGroot doesn’t know won’t hurt him,’ Flint says. ‘Or me. Or you.’

Billy props his chin on the table to admire her. ‘Her eyes stayed blue.’

Flint is well aware. Ink’s favourite place at home is the crook of Silver’s shoulder, so now there’s four huge irresistible eyes capable of turning him to mush at will.

Which reminds him—he gets out his phone.

 _You definitely want to meet me at work tonight,_ he texts Silver. He shoos Billy away, props open the book about islands, and sits Ink in front of it. He takes a photo when she looks down at the page.

 _WHY IS INK AT WORK WITH YOU_ Silver texts back.

 _She’s studying,_ Flint says.

‘Oh, that should definitely go on the library instagram,’ Billy says.

‘If DeGroot sees it, you’re claiming she’s yours,’ Flint warns him as he forwards the photo to Billy’s phone.

‘Oh, yeah,’ Billy nods. ‘She’s definitely mine, I’ll just take her home with me right now.’

‘... Hal has told me I need to stop threatening to kill the interns,’ Flint says.

‘Just don’t give him any reasons to do so,’ Hal suggests to Billy.

‘To kill me or threaten me?’ Billy asks.

‘Don’t snitch on my kitten,’ Flint growls. ‘And you’ll go far in this life.’

‘How about we deal with special collections?’ Hal takes Billy by the arm and steers him out of Flint’s office.

Flint closes the door behind them. He turns around to see Ink has curled up on the page, sound asleep. He takes another photo and sends it to Silver with the message:  _Study break._

Silver sends him a wall of crying emojis. _i just wasn’t ready for her first day of school_

 _They grow up so fast,_ Flint grins.

_she takes after you_

_A scholar?_ Flint asks.

_napping in weird places_

_She got her eyes from you,_ Flint says.

 _and her ability to get away with anything_ Silver replies, and Flint can imagine the grin that goes along with it.

Ink wakes up, stretching her little white paws out as far as they will go.

Flint is not going to get anything done today.


	11. Snowman Day

Silver hangs up his apron and checks his phone. Flint has texted:  _Are you coming in?_

 _i can_ he replies. The snow is a foot deep outside.

 _Do you have carrots at work?_ Flint asks. Silver raises his hands in bafflement, even though Flint can’t see him.

_why_

_Billy says he needs a carrot._

_what for?_

_Didn’t ask._

Silver sighs. There’s a sad-looking carrot near the juicer, so he picks it up.

‘Can I take this?’

‘Hungry? Madi asks.

‘It’s not for me,’ Silver says.

‘What’s it for?’

‘I honestly don’t know,’ he says, and gives Madi a goodbye kiss on the cheek.

Thankfully, someone has shovelled the path from the bus stop to the library. The square is covered in students, all yelling at each other. A snowball soars over Silver’s head.

 _‘TOUCHDOWN!’_ screams a student. Silver squints, and notices a few Walruses shirts on the especially beefy ones.

‘You’re here!’ yells one of them. Silver squints upwards as Billy blocks out the sun. ‘Could you get it?’

Silver takes the carrot out of his pocket, wondering how this must look.

‘You’re a lifesaver,’ Billy says and jogs away.

Flint appears at the library doors. He trots over to greet Silver with a hug.  _Thank you for coming._

 _What’s going on with the carrot?_  Silver asks. Flint points to the middle of the square. There, Silver sees a snowman bigger than any of the football players. Billy is the only one tall enough to affix the carrot to its nose. The team cheers uproariously.

 _They’ve been trying to find a carrot all day,_  Flint tells him.

Silver stares.  _Where the fuck did they get the coal?_


	12. International Kissing Day

_I’ll go back down to reception,_ Flint promises. _I’ll get it sorted out._

Thomas catches his wrist. _Only if it will be uncomfortable for you,_ he says. _I’m quite accustomed to it._

Flint could chapter his life by indignities. By condescending teachers and specialists who spoke only to his mother. By probing questions on first dates and diction lessons. By problems always measured against the phone call it would take to fix them. By a hotel that somehow managed to overlook Thomas entirely and book Flint into a queen room.

Because Flint _is_ uncomfortable. A whirlwind tour of talks and committee meetings and interviews has him on edge. Days of putting on a public-friendly face and nights of twin rooms with Thomas. Thomas wearing nothing but a towel after he showers; Thomas smiling fuzzily when Flint shakes him awake when he oversleeps; Thomas lighting up when he suggests another angle for their pitch.

 _Alright,_ Flint says, and Thomas gives a small nod of agreement.

Flint’s going to regret this. He’s regretted it since the moment he met Thomas. Not that he regrets _meeting_ Thomas: Flint hates superlatives, but Thomas is unequivocally the best thing that’s ever happened to him. What Flint regrets is the fixation he has that’s going to fuck everything up. Thomas' smile takes all the air out of the room. He says things Flint has known his whole life to be true but never _known_ until the words were at Thomas’ fingertips. He is _married._ Flint reminds himself with a glance at the ring on Thomas’ left hand.

He must spend half his waking hours looking at those hands. Another half thinking about them.

Never mind the sleeping hours.

Thomas approaches him. He’s not crowding Flint, exactly, he’s just so _big_ and it’s easy to forget until Flint has to crane slightly to look at him _._ Thomas touches Flint’s lapels with his fingertips. He eases the coat off, thumbs slipping over Flint’s shoulders. Flint’s arms are trapped until he tugs himself free of the sleeves.

 _You’d tell me if you were uncomfortable, wouldn’t you?_ Thomas asks. Flint swallows thickly, nodding.

They’ve been standing here too long. Flint knows that, and he can’t move.

 _Tell me something,_ Thomas says. He’s standing so close that Flint has to drop his gaze to follow Thomas’ hands. _Were you always so guarded?_

 _No,_ Flint answers. Then he answers honestly. _Yes._

Flint’s heart punches against his ribcage. He feels like he’s been plunged underwater, suddenly pressurised, breathless.

 _Then you might not tell me,_ Thomas’ eyes sparkle. _If you wanted to kiss me._

Thomas is right. He might not.

He grabs Thomas’ shirt with both hands and kisses him.

He knows the world doesn’t really tilt off its axis: it’s just that he’s struggling to balance on his toes to reach. Thomas’ hand spreads wide across the small of his back, securing him, pulling him flush against Thomas’ body. Flint gets his arms up around Thomas’ neck. Thomas’ tongue flicks against his, pulling Flint deeper. Flint can’t breathe, overwhelmed by the scratch of Thomas’ stubble at the end of a long day, such a contrast to the soft plush swell of Thomas’ lip when Flint draws it between his teeth and sucks. He feels the gust of Thomas’ exhale, and he isn’t really thinking when he rocks his hips up to meet Thomas’. Then all he’s thinking about is getting Thomas undressed. His stomach swoops as Thomas picks him up —so _easily—_ and tosses him down on the bed. The one bed in the room, that he almost gave up.

Flint does end up regretting it. Thomas kicks in his sleep like a hyperactive Shire horse.


	13. National Coming Out Day

‘Hazelnut for a nut,’ Jack hands Anne her coffee and she pulls a face at him. ‘ _Et pour madame, une mocha latté avec vanille.’_

 _‘Gracias, señor,’_  Max rolls her eyes, taking the cup.

 _‘Bitte schön,’_  Jack bows so low he almost spills his coffee. He deserves it.

‘How’d you end up delivery boy?’ Anne asks him.

‘I do whatever  _madame_ requires,’ Jack says. ‘You might say I’m a Ja—’

‘Don’t fucking finish that sentence,’ Anne warns him.

‘I get the coffee because her ex runs the shop,’ Jack says.

‘Isn’t that place run by a girl?’ Anne asks.

‘Yes?’ Max says.

‘The girl is your ex?’ Anne turns to her.

‘All my exes are girls,’ Max adds an edge of steel to her voice. ’Is this something that will be a problem for you?’

‘No,’ Anne says hurriedly. ‘I just… I didn’t know that.’

Twenty minutes later, Anne appears at Max’s desk.

‘None of mine are.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Girls,’ Anne says. ‘Exes. I don’t have any.’

‘Alright,’ Max nods.

‘Is that gonna be a problem?’ Anne asks.

Max takes a deep breath, and sighs.  _‘Why_  would that be a problem?’

‘I’m just saying, I don’t have a lot of experience,’ Anne says.

‘Dating women is not a requirement for information security,’ Max blinks at her. ‘Which, if I correctly recall your resumé, you have plenty of experience in.’

‘Not talking about the job,’ Anne’s voice is gruff. ‘I meant if we went out.’

‘If we…’ Max repeats.

‘Went out,’ Anne says. ‘You know. On a date. Like paintball or something.’

 _‘Paintball?’_ Max raises her eyebrows.

‘Alright, alright,’ Anne stares at the ground. ‘We can keep it professional.’

‘No,’ Max reaches for Anne’s hand. Anne shies away, but then catches herself. She straightens her shoulders. ‘I mean, we will  _of course_  keep it professional. In the workplace, if not… paintballing.’

Anne nods, still looking away.

‘When would you like to go?’ Max asks gently.

‘Dunno,’ Anne says. ‘Saturday?’

‘I would like that,’ Max says. ‘Very much.’

In another twenty minutes, Jack comes sidling up to the desk.

‘She fucking went with paintballing, didn’t she?’ Jack says. ‘I  _told_ her.’

Max taps her nails on the desk.

‘You said no, right?’ Jack asks. ’I ask because Anne is very beloved to me and I dearly hope she will settle in well here, and not for any reasons that involve settling bets.’

‘Then all I will answer is…’ Max smiles. ‘I hope you enjoy getting shot.’


	14. Spouse's Day

_Oh!_ Flint sits up straighter, turning on the captions and dropping the remote on the duvet.  _This one’s great. It’s just starting._

Silver burrows into the pillows beside him. It’s an awkward position to sign from, but neither of them are very talkative. Flint’s attention is scattershot after a six-hour drive and dinner at Miranda’s favourite restaurant. To be finally sprawled on their hotel bed with a silly movie on and Silver under his arm is everything he needs.

_What is it?_ Silver asks.

_You’ve never seen it?_ Flint frowns at him. Silver tilts his head up, looking at Flint wide-eyed and upside-down.

_It’s not that old,_ Flint says, a little defensive.  _It’s from… well, I saw it when I was still in high school, so… around 1987?_

Silver has a tiny grin.  _It’s older than me._

_Oh, god,_  Flint shoves him gently.  _Don’t remind me, please._

_So was it black and white, originally?_ Silver flips over to tease him.  _Did the dialogue used to come up on cards between the scenes, instead of in the subtitles?_

_Shut up and watch it,_ Flint smiles and rolls his eyes.  _It’s a classic piece of cinema history._

Flint drifts asleep between the sword fight on the cliffs and the torture chamber. He wakes to find Silver sitting upright against the headboard, captivated by the movie.

_I told you it was good,_ Flint grins, leveraging himself up to sit beside Silver.

_You didn’t say it was_ ** _funny,_** Silver snuggles against him. He’s so close that he can feel Silver shaking with laughter, wriggling at the exciting parts, and jumping at surprises. It’s like watching it for the first time again.

_This bit!_ Flint grabs the remote and turns the volume up. Silver looks at him, puzzled.  _I remember this. It’s an audible joke._

Silver looks back at the screen. As Flint predicted, the subtitles don’t quite capture the essence of the moment as the priest says:

_‘Mawwiage.’_

Silver doubles over. Flint has to pull him back upright, and finds Silver wiping tears from his eyes.

The heroes prevail and the villains are punished, and love conquers all in the end. Flint has his nose tucked against Silver’s throat. He kisses Silver’s pulse point and Silver shivers. Flint keeps mouthing, finding all the sensitive places under Silver’s jaw. Silver is wriggling, a hand catching the fabric of Flint’s shirt. Flint works his way up to Silver’s mouth, tongue slipping in and tempting Silver into a slow, hungry kiss. Silver pulls his shirt again and Flint shifts, swinging one knee over until he’s straddling Silver’s lap.

Silver raises his eyebrows in surprise.  _Second wind?_

_I’m not that old yet,_ Flint smirks, leaning in to bite Silver’s lower lip. He takes Silver’s face in both hands, kissing him deeply. Silver’s pulse quickens under his fingertips. Silver’s arms sneak around Flint’s waist, grabbing his ass and pulling him closer. Flint purrs against Silver’s mouth, and Silver’s hips roll beneath Flint’s. They break a moment for breath, foreheads pressed together.

_Get the lights?_ Silver asks.

Flint nuzzles him.  _As you wish._


	15. Cuddling Day

The problem with holding your DnD games in a bar is, you end up getting a drink. The problem with holding your DnD games with players whose workplace closes at 3pm is, you can end up shitfaced by 5:30.

Kofi stares at his page of notes. He jots something down, mouthing for the straw of his drink and missing completely because he’s not looking. Zaki, their kitchen-hand-by-day, halfling-by-night, grabs the straw and directs it into Kofi’s mouth. Silver sips his own drink, his straw making gurgling noises as he chases the last of the cocktail between ice cubes. He can’t remember the name of the drink: something about beaches or sunsets. Whatever it is, they’re two-for-one until 6pm and perfect for celebrating the massive pile of loot their party just liberated from the bandit camp.

They’re all slouching in the booth like they fought the bandits themselves. Eme leans forward to tidy up some of the figurines and Madi grumbles, tugging on her cardigan. Eme chuckles, sitting back so Madi can slump on her some more. They settle with Madi’s head on Eme’s shoulder. Madi nurses a gin and tonic while Eme fiddles with the dice on the table.

Silver glances between them. Madi’s avoiding his eye, but Eme catches him. He quirks one eyebrow, barely a millimetre, not enough for any of the others to catch. Eme mimics the expression, suggesting she knows as little as he does about Madi’s motives.

One of the dice goes skittering from under Eme’s fingers. Madi’s hand darts out to catch it before it rolls off the edge of the table. She passes it back to Eme, her fingers sliding delicately across Eme’s palm. Clearly the gin and tonics aren’t half as strong as the beach sunsets if her reflexes are still that good. Clearly the beach sunsets are making Silver leap to wild conclusions about what’s going on between the assassin and the paladin.

Not that there’s anything going on between the assassin and the paladin. Yet.

Silver puts his glass down firmly on the table.

‘Can I get anyone another drink?’ he looks over at the girls. His knee jostles, and he realises Madi’s kicking him in the shin.

 _Wrong leg,_ he mouths at her. She leers at him from under Eme’s chin.

The whole table groans at the graveyard of funny-shaped glasses that have accumulated during happy hour. He tries another strategy.

‘How about nachos?’


	16. Squirrel Appreciation Day

Flint pokes his head into Hal’s office. It’s empty. He continues down the hall of abandoned offices into the main floor of the library. Billy’s arm pokes up between some stacks, and Flint follows it.

DeGroot, Billy, and Hal are clustered between two shelves, staring upward. Flint follows their gaze and sees a flash of fur. The squirrel leaps to the far shelf.

The three of them are muttering at each other, well out of Flint’s earshot. He rests his elbow on the loan desk to watch the show.

DeGroot keeps pointing and directing Billy. The squirrel darts down behind a set of reference books. Only then does Billy seem to realise that grabbing a squirrel bare-handed might not be the smartest idea. Hal gives Billy an encouraging pat on the shoulder and marches off. He sees Flint and they exchange bemused looks as he passes.

Before Hal returns, Billy has pounced. He emerges with a furiously wriggling hoodie in his hands, sprinting outside with it like he’s playing the Superbowl. He comes back panting like he’s fought a bear, not a small rodent.

‘Do we need to increase your hazard pay?’ Flint asks.

‘Wouldn’t go amiss,’ Billy shakes tufts of fur out of his hoodie.

‘Dangerous place to work, the library,’ Hal adds.

‘If only we had some kind of creature here that could  _get rid of vermin,’_ Billy says.

‘We do,’ Flint says. ‘We’ve got you.’


End file.
